


I’ve got chains and you’ve got wings

by justhockey



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Insecurity, Internalized Homophobia, Kyle is patient, M/M, Mutual Pining, Self-Acceptance, Willy is soft, auston is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 11:08:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justhockey/pseuds/justhockey
Summary: Will should have known this thing with his feelings wasn’t just going to go away. Because as much as he tried to tell himself it was just a crush, just something that would pass, it was getting harder and harder to convince himself of that.





	I’ve got chains and you’ve got wings

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _Devils Don’t Fly_ by Natalia Kills.

Kyle is - god, he’s _everything_. 

Everything Willy wants to be, everything Willy wants _full stop_. He’s confident and self-assured, understanding and eloquent, and fuck, he’s _out_. Like, actually, openly gay, right in the centre of the NHL and Toronto media, and he doesn’t give a single fuck. 

The reporters and other GM’s respect him enough that his coming out hasn’t influenced the way they view him, which is, like, incredible to Willy. Especially considering he could breathe the wrong way and get slated by reporters and fans alike. 

But it’s amazing, really, to see it. To see the way people talked about it for a while and then just moved on like it wasn’t a big deal, like Kyle wasn’t the first openly gay man involved in the NHL. Like he wasn’t groundbreaking. 

Willy is proud of him, he is. But. He’s also jealous, a little. Or a lot, whatever. He can’t help it. Because he wants that, he wants to fucking scream it in a room full of reporters just to get it off his chest, just so he doesn’t have to hide anymore. He’s tired of being so afraid of getting caught that he refuses to hook up during the season, because everywhere they travel is a hockey city, and his face is too recognisable. He’s tired of meaningless sex during the off season because maintaining a genuine relationship with a guy would just be impossible for Willy. 

He’s _exhausted_ of hiding who he is in order to maintain his career. 

He just wants to feel free, wants to know how Kyle felt when everyone found out. But he can’t. Because he’s not Kyle. Half the Toronto fan base still think he’s greedy and overpaid, Willy doesn’t even want to consider what other team’s fans think of him. He’d lose hockey, and that’s everything to him. 

And Willy knows Kyle wouldn’t trade him for coming out, he wouldn’t have even if Kyle was straight, but still. The rest of the league would shun him, maybe even his teammates too, and definitely a huge number of fans. 

So he keeps quiet. Goes out drinking with the guys after games and comes up with excuses not to hook up. Catches himself staring at Kyle a little too long and tears his eyes away before anyone else can notice, because even if he could be out, he would still never be enough for Kyle. 

He plays it straight, and he hates every second of it. 

*

Like, ok. So. Willy isn’t _in love_ with Kyle, he’s not. He just likes him a lot. Because he _can’t_ love him, he can’t do that to himself. If it’s just a crush it’ll pass, but if he loves Kyle, god, this will kill him. And he’s not stupid enough to let that happen. 

(He purposefully ignores the nagging voice in the back of his head that says he’s been gone on Kyle for way too long for it to just be a crush.)

See, Willy had always been aware of Kyle in that “hot nerd” kinda way, because he likes pretty guys ok, sue him. But it’s not a surprise that things really escalated during his contract negotiations. Everyone was so tense beyond belief, and Willy was getting increasingly concerned that he would never get signed, that the team (_Kyle_) just didn’t need him. He had the Leafs and the fans telling him he needed to settle for less, and his agent and family telling him he should only settle for what he deserved. 

Willy was starting to think he didn’t deserve any of it. 

And then Kyle showed up in fucking _Switzerland_. He flew eight hours just to tell Will that he mattered, that he was important to the team and to Kyle, and that Kyle wanted Willy on the team for as long as Willy wanted to be there. 

And fuck, if Willy hadn’t wanted him already, he definitely did after that. After they sat together in a room for hours, not even really talking about the specifics and logistics of a contract, but just about the team, about Willy, about how much they needed him. Then about Kyle and his coming out, and Willy’s words got trapped in his throat because he wanted to say it so bad, wanted to tell Kyle _me too, I’m gay too!_. But he couldn’t, so he smiled and bit his tongue, willing the tears not to fall from his eyes so Kyle wouldn’t see how much he was hurting. 

Then he signed. Because how could he not, after Kyle had gone so far above and beyond to make Willy feel valued and important?

So he was back in Toronto, playing with his best friends again, except. Well. Willy just wasn’t producing, couldn’t get on the board to save his life, and fuck if he didn’t feel like a failure. Kyle had done _everything_ for Willy, and he couldn’t even fucking score for him, couldn’t even get an assist. 

Maybe the media and fans had been right all along, maybe Willy was being greedy and he didn’t deserve his contract after all. He felt sick to his stomach. His bones ached with how hard he was working, and his heart ached after every game where he failed to perform. 

So when Kyle called him into the office after practise one morning, Willy naturally assumed the worst - he was gonna be a healthy scratch, he was getting traded, he wasn’t enough. _Something._ But then Kyle just smiled at him when he sat down, rested a hand on his shoulder and told him he was proud of how hard Willy was working, and that it was just a slump he’d make his way out of. 

Willy didn’t cry in front of Kyle, ok? He _didn’t_. He waited until he got home, and _then_ broke down. He’s nothing if not professional. 

Except. 

Professionals don’t fall in love with their bosses. But whatever. It’s fine. Willy isn’t in love. 

*

They lost in game seven against the Bruins, because _of course_ they did. And then Willy spent most of the off season holding his breath. 

Kyle was making changes and trades left, right, and centre. He watched as Naz, Gards, Brownie, _Patty_ got traded or signed elsewhere. Then the whole commotion with Mitch’s contract negotiations was all everyone could focus on.

Every time Willy’s phone lit up he was expecting a call to say he’d been traded, because Mitch was Mitch, and he was irreplaceable, but Willy? He wasn’t a necessity like Mitch, and if they needed the cap space, well. 

Only the call never came. He went through his pre-season training and training camp, played in their pre-season games, and then it was opening night. And Willy was still on the roster. And yeah, Kyle had more or less promised that Willy wasn’t going to be traded when he signed, but still. Hockey is a business too, and managers have to put their business first, which meant that Kyle still thought Will was valuable. That was enough to spur him into action. 

They were losing some games, sure, but they were winning some too. Willy started collecting points, and then he started _scoring_, and fuck he had missed it, that feeling of elation as the puck went sailing into the back of the net off of your stick. And if the smile on Kyle’s face when Willy saw him after games made his heart constrict and his breath falter, well. That was a problem for another day. 

It was _good_, is the point Willy is trying to make. Really fucking good. For long enough that Willy was kind of able to forget for a while.

But Will should have known this thing with his feelings wasn’t just going to go away. Because as much as he tried to tell himself it was just a crush, just something that would pass, it was getting harder and harder to convince himself of that. 

*

“Great game, William,” Kyle says. 

They just beat the Bruins 6-4, Willy got two goals and an assist, and Kyle is looking at him like That. It’s kind of a lot. 

He clears his throat, “Thanks, yeah, we did good.”

Kyle laughs and shakes his head, places his hand on Willy’s shoulder (Will tries to ignore how Kyle’s thumb brushes again the bare skin of his neck) and gives him the warmest smile Willy thinks he’s ever seen. 

“_You_ did good, William. Learn to take a compliment,” Kyle chuckles, then squeezes Will’s shoulder before letting go. 

And Willy can’t think straight, can’t even fucking _breathe_. He feels his cheeks flush and he immediately averts his eyes so he doesn’t have to look at Kyle’s perfect face any longer. 

He mumbles out a ‘thank you’ and Kyle just smiles at him again, then bumps their shoulders together. 

“You know, I expected someone like you to handle praise better,” Kyle observes, the corner of his lips turned up in a slight smile. 

And Willy has - no idea what that means? If he’s honest. 

“What do you mean?” Will asks, frowning in confusion. 

Kyle’s eyes widen as if he’s surprised he even has to ask, then he gestures up and down at Willy, “Like, all your Swedish beauty. I’m sure you’re always getting compliments.”

Ok. So they’re words that Kyle just said, and Willy knows he should probably respond, but his brain just seems to be on an endless loop of _he called me beautiful he called me beautiful he called me beautiful_ so like, give him a break. 

He doesn’t respond, can’t get his brain and mouth to connect to make the words come out. And they’re just standing there, in a empty hallway in the arena after everyone has gone home, and like. It shouldn’t be a thing, ok? They’re just standing there. But they’re so close, and Kyle is looking at Will like he’s proud of him, and _fuck_ he called Willy _beautiful_. It feels so intimate, and Willy kind of wants to kiss Kyle, but he also wants to cry. 

He sucks in a breath, opens his mouth to say something, anything, but then a door opens and a janitor enters the hallway. Kyle takes a small step back and clears his throat, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. Will would have to be blind to miss the faint pink tinge that colours Kyle’s cheeks and god, he feels like he’s suffocating. 

“I better go,” he says, then darts off before Kyle can even respond. 

His heart is racing all the way to the parking lot and then all the way home. Willy’s hands only stop shaking when he’s shut himself away in his bedroom and he’s buried under the covers. 

He knows he has a habit of seeing things because he wants to see them, but he’s certain that’s not the case here. Kyle called him beautiful. They were stood way closer than necessary, and Kyle _blushed_. 

Willy isn’t seeing things. 

*

Ok, so. He may not have been _entirely_ honest earlier. Well, he didn’t _lie_ per say, but he could probably be accused of withholding the truth. Because there have been moments before, with Kyle. Moments that maybe could have been innocuous, but Will didn’t think they were. 

Like when the Marlies reached the Calder Cup playoffs in 2015 and Kyle had wrapped his arms around Will in the locker room. They’d held each other so tight, and even back then Willy’s heart skipped a beat when Kyle whispered ‘we did it’ in his ear. And Kyle wasn’t out then, Willy was only nineteen, and Kyle’s not a creep, but the look in his eyes seemed to say _maybe_. 

Or after Will’s first NHL goal against the Sens, and Kyle had grabbed his wrist and told him he was proud of him. 

Or when they made the playoffs for the first time in three years, and Willy’s first instinct was to look for Kyle, only to find that Kyle was already looking at him. 

Then in Switzerland, just as Kyle was about to leave he turned back to look at Willy. He was giving Will a gentle smile when he reached a hand out and curled it lightly around his bicep. Kyle had looked directly in his eyes when he’d said ‘I’ll support you no matter what’, and Willy had a strange feeling that he wasn’t just talking about the contract. 

So yeah, there had been moments that Will had thought _maybe_, moments when it had seemed like Kyle could want him back, but he knew it wasn’t possible. 

Because Kyle is out - he’s proud of who he is - and Willy can’t ever come out, at least, not while he’s still playing. And even if Kyle _did_ want him back, he wouldn’t want the secrecy and the lies that would come with dating a closeted athlete. 

So, it was easier for Will to tell himself that Kyle would never want him like that, easier to tell himself that he’s not in _love_, he just likes him a lot. 

(He knows that’s not true, he’s just not ready to admit it yet.)

*

Things are good, great, even. They’re winning, like, a lot, way more than they’re losing, and they actually look like cup contenders. It’s still early in the season, they all know that, but it feels different this time, somehow. 

Will should be over the moon. He’s putting goals and points up like never before, his team are playing amazing, life is good. 

But he just feels so hollow. 

Every time he catches Kyle’s eye he yearns to just say something, do something, _anything_, but he can’t. Can’t do that to his career or his heart, and he can’t do it to Kyle either, because he deserves better than a guy who’s too afraid to be himself. So he shuts his feelings off, keeps his head down, and plays like his life depends on it. 

He actually thinks he’s doing a pretty good job of acting like he isn’t spiralling, that is until Auston shows up at his apartment one afternoon with a determined look on his face. 

“Hi?”

“Sit down,” Auston says as he shoves past Willy and into his apartment. 

“Can I help?” Willy asks, laughing slightly. 

“I was kinda hoping _I’d_ be able to help actually,” Auston says, then points at the sofa and glares at Will, “now sit.”

Willy hasn’t a clue what the fuck is going on, but Auston has always been weird and kind of bossy so he just rolls with it and takes a seat on his sofa. He waits patiently for Auston to sit down with him and start talking, because he knows Aus well enough to know that he’s not gonna say anything until he wants to. 

“So,” Auston begins, “what the fuck is going on with you?”

Well, at least he’s straight to the point. 

Will chuckles nervously, “What are you talking about?”

Auston gives him a look and Willy licks his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling uncomfortably dry. 

“Buddy,” Auston says, softer this time, “talk to me.”

He can feel the anxiety building in his chest but he tries to laugh. He can’t talk about this, not with his teammate, even if Auston is one of his best friends. 

“I just got three goals in three games, what makes you think something is wrong?” He knows his smile is strained but he hopes to god Aus doesn’t notice. 

“Will, this is _me_, okay? I know something is wrong.”

Willy can feel the tears welling in his eyes, because Auston is so amazing and such a good friend and teammate, but that could all change if he finds out. His hands start to tremble and fuck, he’s _scared_. 

“Is it,” Auston pauses, “is it a Kyle thing?”

Willy’s stomach drops. He tries to laugh but his chest is so tight it sounds more like choking. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Auston smiles softly, “I’m not an idiot, Will, I see the way you look at him.”

Willy is starting to feel hysterical, “No, no no, I don’t know what you think you mean, but Aus, I swear you got it wrong, it’s not-“

“- Will, breathe,” Auston interrupts, “It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to hide it from me, you’re my best friend.”

And Willy hears Auston, but he doesn’t _hear_ him, because surely he isn’t really saying that, surely he isn’t telling Will it’s okay? But the look of concern in his eyes and the hand he’s resting on Willy’s knee seem to say that he does mean it. 

“Are you serious?”

Auston shrugs, “Bro, of course? Why would I be mad?”

He sounds genuinely shocked that Willy could even consider it a possibility that Auston wouldn’t accept him, and some of the sheer panic that had started to consume Willy seems to ease off a little. 

“You don’t care that I’m, that I’m, you know, _gay?_” Willy asks.

When he thinks about it, it’s the first time he’s ever said that out loud. He feels a strange, overwhelming weight lift from his shoulders, and when Auston laughs and shakes his head, Willy feels relief course through his body. 

“Dude, of course not? We suspected you know, but we weren’t sure so we didn’t wanna ask until you were ready to tell us,” Auston says casually, as if he’s not just dropped a huge fucking bomb. 

“We? _We?_ Who else knows?” Will asks, feeling more than a little taken aback that more than once person had figured it out. 

Auston laughs again and squeezes Will’s knee in a gesture of comfort. 

“Me and Mo talked about it a little, you know what he’s like, wanted to know if he should talk to you and let you know we’d support you no matter what,” Auston tells him. 

Willy feels bowled over. He thinks maybe he should be mad that they’d discussed it behind his back, but they’d done it out of love and hadn’t wanted to push him before he was ready, so really, how could he be mad? He couldn’t even feel anything except relief, and maybe even happiness, at the fact that at least two of his teammates and friends know, and love him anyway. 

“Oh,” is all he manages to say. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Willy just letting everything sink in, before Auston speaks again. 

“So, _is it_ about Kyle?”

All Willy can do is nod as picks at the skin around his fingernails nervously. 

“You’re gone for him aren’t you?” He asks, and Willy nods, still not trusting his voice. 

It’s quiet again for a while, until, “You know he feels the same, right?”

Willy almost chokes. 

“No, no he doesn’t,” he quickly corrects Auston. 

He can’t hear that. He can’t even consider that it’s a possibility, because as much as he _wants_ Kyle to want him back, it would just make things harder, knowing he could have him if only things were different, if only Will was braver. 

“Will, are you fucking kidding me? You’ve seen how he looks at you right? Like, I honestly thought you were seeing each other for a while,” Auston tells him, and Willy just can’t believe it. 

“I’d never be good enough for him,” Will says, laughing like it’s a joke even though it stings. 

“William Michael Junior Nylander Altelius, don’t you dare talk about my best friend like that,” Auston chastises him. 

He lets out a laugh, because Auston is fucking weird, but he shakes his head. 

“Even if he did like me-“

“- he does-“

“-even if he did, he wouldn’t wanna be with someone who’s in the closet.”

Will isn’t expecting Auston to reach out and shove his shoulder so hard he almost falls off the sofa, but that’s exactly what he does, and Willy scoffs as he swats at Auston’s hand. 

“Dude?” Willy all but yells. 

“_Dude!_” Auston parrots him. “He’s fucking crazy about you, and he _knows_ you’re in the closet, which must mean he doesn’t mind.”

And - oh. 

Will had never thought about it like that. Had never thought that Kyle knew William’s situation better than just about anyone else, and he still gave him those looks, still touched him like maybe it could mean something. 

Could Auston actually be right (for once)? 

“Yes, yes I am right,” Auston says, looking smug. 

Oh. 

*

Will doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s not sure how to handle the several revelations that had been thrown at him in the past few days, like how Auston and Mo both knew, and how Kyle might really want him back, and, possibly most shocking of all, that Tyson and Mo have been kind of dating since he got traded to the Leafs in the off season. Because, like, what?

But he plays close attention to his next interactions with Kyle. Like how Kyle just seems _softer_ around him somehow, and he smiles more at Willy than anyone else (which says A Lot because the guy is a ray of fucking sunshine), and how when he shakes Will’s hand after he gets the OT game winner in St Louis, he holds on maybe just a little bit longer than necessary. 

And like, Willy can’t really believe it, but all evidence points to the fact that Kyle wants him too. 

Which is why he’s knocking on Kyle’s office door at eight thirty in the evening, when the building is almost entirely empty. 

“Come in,” he hears Kyle call from behind the door. 

His hands are shaking and clammy, and his mouth is dry. All of his instincts are telling him to turn around and walk away, but Will is tired of pretending and he’s tired of not fighting for what he wants. So, he takes a deep breath, wipes his hands on his jeans, and then turns the door handle. 

The smile that brightens Kyle’s face when he looks up and sees Willy is, well. It’s _something_, that’s for sure. It makes Will’s heart feel like it’s going to explode in the best way, and he can’t help but smile back. 

“William, it’s good to see you,” Kyle says, immediately putting his pen down and turning his full attention on Will. 

“Hi,” Willy says, because he’s a fucking mess around Kyle, apparently. 

“Hi,” Kyle laughs, “is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, while gesturing for Willy to take a seat. 

Kyle comes and sits beside him on the loveseat in the corner of his office and Willy, like, forgets what to do with his hands. He folds them on his lap, then places them on his knees, then rests them on the fabric of the loveseat. He’s freaking out, ok, shut up. 

Kyle senses something is wrong, because _obviously,_ Willy is acting like a fucking idiot. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asks.

Clearly Willy’s fidgeting is getting distracting because Kyle reaches out and takes hold of one Will’s hands. And they’re not, like, holding hands, but they’re not _not_ holding hands? And Willy just can’t deal. 

“I’m gay,” he blurts out, because being in such close proximity to Kyle Dubas evidently stops his filter from working. 

The room is painfully silent for what can’t be more than a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity to Willy as he sits there with his hand in Kyle’s, and his secret out in the open. 

Then Kyle squeezes his hand tightly and says, “Me too.”

Willy can’t help but laugh, and any tension in the room is broken instantly. Trust Kyle to make him laugh when he’s feeling vulnerable and afraid. 

“Thank you for telling me, William,” Kyle says, more seriously this time, but there’s still a smile toying at the corners of his mouth. 

“Yeah, well. I figured it was probably time, you know?” Will almost whispers.

And he’s scared but he looks up at Kyle anyway, and hopes that he understands what Willy is trying to say. 

Kyle treats him to a breathtaking smile as he threads his fingers between Willy’s. He lets out the breath he’s been holding since he walked into the room, since he met Kyle, maybe since he was sixteen and realised he liked boys. 

Because no random hookup could compare to this, to the way Kyle is holding his hand and looking at him like he’s the only thing that matters, the only thing that exists.

And in that moment Willy feels truly at peace with who he is, and all the shame that he’s been holding on to slips away as Kyle cups his jaw and presses their lips together. 

Yeah, William is in love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so bad and so all over the place & I'm sorry! I haven’t written in forever but I’m trying to get back into it :)


End file.
